


Change

by stingerpicnic (ibelieveinfiction)



Category: Cuphead (Video Game)
Genre: Inspired By Tumblr, It's not quite the Valentine's Day fluff I had originally set out for but whatever, Light Angst, Loneliness, M/M, Sort Of, The Devil's musings, but Dice cares just as much so it's not so bad, even if Devil won't recognize that fully for a while, oh no he cares too much whatever will he do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 05:52:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13675575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibelieveinfiction/pseuds/stingerpicnic
Summary: Sometimes the Devil forgets that he can change, even slightly. After all, he's been the same for millenia. There's nothing and no one that could change habits that old. He'll never change.Until he does. Then he somehow manages to forget he was ever different. For a while, at least.





	Change

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aesthalien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aesthalien/gifts).



> This fic is a Valentine's Day gift for my adorable wife, and is very loosely based off of the asks I sent her on tumblr that started us talking several months ago. Hopefully, she likes it. But I suppose we'll see come morning time when she gets up and can read it.
> 
> Love you, sweetheart.

He didn’t know what it was that was different this time, specifically. All he knew was that something must have been different. His pride wouldn’t let him believe anything else.

Maybe it was the lighting? Was he feeling more stressed than usual? Had he missed a step in his morning routine?

He scrambled to find anything that might have been even slightly different than any other day. But the lighting was exactly the same as it had always been. He didn’t feel exceptionally stressed or frustrated today, if anything the day had been going particularly well. His morning had gone the same way it always had. There was nothing out of the ordinary about today.

But if that was the case, why was he crying?

That was the only unusual thing about this day, this moment. Sure, he cried occasionally, but he’d never been set off by absolutely nothing before. And even when something small got the waterworks flowing it was always when he was feeling extremely frustrated, but he had really been fine just seconds ago. He had only been doing routine paperwork. Granted, he didn’t necessarily like doing paperwork, but it was necessary to run any business and just because the casino was run by the Devil himself didn’t mean he could get out of it. He’d eventually gotten used to it. Nowadays it was easy for him to lose himself in the routine nature of doing paperwork and in some cases it could even be relaxing, or at least grounding, if he was minorly upset.

But then he’d made what was apparently a mistake and went and got thirsty.

He’d put down his pen, straightened his back—maybe Dice did have a point about good posture if the pain that had been building around his shoulders from slouching was any indicator—and glanced up, prepared to shout for one of his demons to bring him a drink. But then he’d stopped, mouth still half way open and shout dying in his chest.

There was already a glass of water on his desk.

It had been there a while, judging by the amount of condensation that had gathered along the sides and the ice slivers that had likely once been good sized cubes. Frowning, he’d wondered who had brought it before he’d even had the chance to ask. But then he’d seen the playing card that had been slipped half under the coaster the glass rested on.

King of Hearts.

King Dice. Of course. He had felt his face soften into a fond smile. His boyfriend was always doing little things like this. How could he have forgotten? It was practically routine. The man had been at his side for so long he could easily predict what he would want before he wanted it. Bringing him a glass of water was one of the smaller, subtle ways he showed he cared. He must have been having an exceptionally busy day out on the floor to not have made sure the Devil had noticed him leaving it and strike up a short conversation.

Picking up the glass, he’d let his eyes slip over to the photo of his manager he kept on his desk when he wasn’t doing business with a customer—he had an image to maintain after all. The photo wasn’t quite as good as man himself, but it was a good substitute when he wasn’t available and a good place to direct his disgustingly sappy stares at when he got to thinking about him. He wished he’d noticed when he had come in earlier. He couldn’t get sassed by a mere photo.

Then he’d noticed that there was a smudge on the glass covering the photo. Mind, of course, still on Dice, he’d gotten the urge to clean it, remembering how the man often commented on his office. It had gotten better since they had met, mostly because now he actually had a frequent guest who actually cared about the mess and knew he wouldn’t be forced into some eternal punishment for making it known. Speaking of cleaning, he should probably clean up all the fur he’d shed onto his desk over the couple day.

He’d only just gotten the cleaner and rag out of a drawer in his desk when he had suddenly been struck by how odd it was for him to be doing this. Not because he’d never taken it upon himself to clean, but because he’d spent millennium not really caring about how clean his things were. The cleaner and rag in his hands were new additions. He’d only acquired them a year or two ago, but now pulling them out felt natural and commonplace. Of course he had cleaning supplies in his desk and of course he used them regularly to keep his space clean and presentable and of course it was worth it to put in the effort.

But he only thought that because of Dice’s influence.

Looking around the room, he had seen traces of Dice everywhere. His coat on the coat rack. His favorite whiskey already off the shelf and next to the glasses with his own. The pseudo-wine cabinet he’d insisted on getting that actually mainly housed the brushes he used on the Devil’s fur, there for easy access when he needed to get looking presentable quickly. A gap in the bookcase where Dice had taken out a book to read one late night a couple days ago, now left on the by the couch. A small case he knew contained an emergency supply of makeup. A case of Dice’s favorite cigars left next to his own. The picture. The glass and its coaster. The playing card.

It was Dice. Remnants of the man, left carelessly but not mistakenly. He had almost been able to picture him sitting on the couch, smirking at him all cocky because of course he would know how he was making the Devil feel and he would revel in nearly bringing him to knees like this.

He had been overwhelmed. There was just so much evidence of Dice in his office, of their relationship. Too much proof that he wasn’t alone anymore.

It wasn’t something he necessarily liked admitting, if fact he hated admitting it. He was supposed to be strong, a beast that was to be feared. That was what he was, or at least that was image of himself he’d cultivated. It was what he wanted people to believe about him. But creatures that are feared are creatures that are lonely, something that he knows all too well. He’s been lonely for millennium.

He could almost hate Dice for this. For agreeing to start a relationship for him. For spending time with him. For nearly making him forget how much it had hurt to be lonely. For soothing the itch that crawled under his skin and begged him to reach out and touch someone if only to prove that the people around him weren’t all figments of his desperate imagination. For slotting himself so easily and perfectly into his life like he belonged there. For making him miss him.

But that was also why he loved him.

He had tried to cover his eyes to shield himself from the view of his office so he could pull himself together and finish cleaning and then do the rest of the paperwork. But he had felt wetness there. Surprised, he’d pulled back to look at the faint pink sheen on his fingers. He hadn’t realized he’d started crying.

That’s where he was now, wondering what exactly had been different enough about today to set him off on such a spiral. He still couldn’t come up with anything substantial and he doubted he would. Not until he calmed down at least.

He almost wished Dice was here to comfort him, but he doubted that would help even if he wasn’t busy. It would only serve to remind him how much he loved the man and how much it would hurt to lose him one day.

He hadn’t truly felt how much being lonely hurt for a long time. Eventually he had gotten numb to it for the most part. He didn’t know if he could handle having to build up to that again. But Dice was mortal, so he almost definitely would have to at some point.

Well, strictly speaking, he knew that wasn’t necessarily true. There was one way he might get to keep Dice by his side. But he’d have to marry him.

But he wouldn’t agree to that, would he? Who would ever agree to marry the Devil? To bond their very soul to him? To happily stay in his presence forever?

He couldn’t even take the risk of asking him. His whole life was about taking risks and playing the odds, he ran a casino of all things! But here he’d always been on the side of the house, and the odds were always slightly in his favor because of that. But in this he had nothing to skew the odds in his favor, only perhaps give him unfavorable odds. And he’d be risking too much too soon. He’d have to bet his whole life, everything that made him happy. All or nothing. He couldn’t handle a no.

He knows he’ll probably have to take the risk anyways.

Picking up the playing card, he stared at it for a while, thinking about what it represented, what it meant. Wiping his eyes, he reminded himself that somehow, against all odds, Dice actually did care about him. He’d actually managed to earn that. He didn’t how he had exactly, but he had all the same. He wouldn’t ever had bet his money on that happening, never would have even imagined it as a possibility.

Looking at the playing card, he thought that maybe, possibly, there might be some way that Dice could say yes.

Maybe.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's day.
> 
> For those interested in what ask I was talking about:  
> https://aestheticallysadalien.tumblr.com/post/167035005620/or-what-if-devil-started-crying-because-hes-the


End file.
